


all the seasons on your back

by somnolence



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, also the julia/magnus doesn't always show up but i already have a chapter or two about them, but those are the most prominent ones, faerunian festivities, i won't tag every character because so many of them show up, not a serious fic for once (most of the time), there's also going to be hurloane but not too often either so i'm not tagging it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9607631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somnolence/pseuds/somnolence
Summary: It’s time to celebrate life, rather than just save it.Or take it.That happens, too.(A series of unrelated one-shots about Faerunian holidays. Warnings will be put at the beginning of each chapter.)





	1. you don't need tricks and you don't need treats

**Author's Note:**

> this is the last fic i'll be posting for a while, i swear  
> anyway, this one's about trolltide, which is... close enough to halloween even if it’s just a minor kids’ celebration from waterdeep and the boys are unlikely to have ever taken part in it, but like. common sense can’t stop me i want a halloween fic and god help me i will have a halloween fic

Taako's not sure as to why the Bureau of Balance decided to host a party for Trolltide. It doesn't seem like the type of thing Lucretia would think of, or even approve of, but maybe he's misjudged her, and she's secretly super into worms in a can and throwing eggs at people's houses. (Not that any of them have a house to speak of, but it's the spirit of the thing.)

Maybe she just wants to get ridiculous amounts of free candy, which does seem more up her alley. He can't pinpoint exactly why he thinks this, but he has the feeling that the Director has a massive sweet tooth, and doesn't say anything about it so as to keep her reputation as a stern hard-ass. She doesn't have it anymore, but it's what she  _ thinks _ , and they're all okay with letting her keep thinking that because she's the one who pays their checks, and also, apparently, hosts parties.

* * *

 

The news come from Carey and Killian, who are very excited about the prospect of dressing up, if only to get matching couples costumes. Killian, of course, suggested they go as ducks, but Carey wasn't sure anything really matched a duck, to which Killian replied 'another duck, do you even have to ask that', and Carey questioned the orc's understanding of what a couples costume was supposed to be. So they, for some reason, go to the Tres Horny Boys for advice. (Probably because there wasn't anyone else available.)

"What do you mean there's going to be a party?" Magnus asks. 

Carey and Killian both sigh, knowing that their original question will be lost to the tides of three oblivious people trying to make sense of the fact that the world -or the moon, rather- doesn’t orbit around them.

"Yeah, why didn't we hear about it sooner? We're like, the life and soul of that shit. You know what they say about us, the party don't start 'til we walk in."

"Or the murderous rampages," Merle says.

"Or the murderous rampages."

Magnus' mind is clearly too occupied with other things to even try to claim that they weren't murderous rampages, they were helpful acts of murder.

"Will there be dogs?" he asks, eyes wide, hope etched all over his face.

"No. Magnus, we told you a thousand times already, there are no dogs on the moon." Carey starts enumerating with her fingers, or the dragonborn equivalent thereof. "Or cats, or horses, or birds, or kangaroos, or -- you get my point. "

"Okay." A pause. "Will the Voidfish be there?"

"I... don't think so," Killian says, very slowly. "Why?"

"He's the closest thing to an animal we have here, aside from Steven."

Taako crosses his arms over his chest and sticks out his tongue in disgust. "I sure hope not, because then the punch might be spiked with Voidfish juice or some shit."

They argue for a while about whether the nutritional properties of Voidfish juice. The entire couples costume debacle is entirely put aside, until Carey and Killian unanimously decide that they really, really don’t want to hear any more of how it would possibly be good for your bladder.

Killian clears her throat. "So, we were talking about couples costumes?"

"No, we weren't, we were talking about Voidfish ju-"

Carey hits Merle with her elbow. Hard.

"Any ideas, guys?"

"Well..."

"I mean, you could always... you could, um..."

Magnus and Merle seem to be considering different options; or at least taking it with a degree of seriousness. It’s more than what can be said for Taako, who cocks his hip to a side and shoots the girlfriends a look that is half tired, half haughty.

"We have no fucking clue. Seriously, do we look like the kind of people who would be good at coming up with sappy shit on the spot?"

Magnus looks mildly offended, and by the way his brow furrows, it was obvious he's taken it as his personal duty to come up with a suitably shitty sappy costume for the duo.

"You could go as, uh," he scratches the back of his neck. "Eggs and bacon. That's a classic, everyone loves eggs and bacon."

"I'm a fantasy vegan," Killian says.

From her dry tone of voice and her completely deadpan face, it’s kind of hard to tell whether she’s being genuine or sarcastic. Magnus chooses to believe the latter, because he has a penchant for always seeing the best in people. (Sometimes.)

"I'm not saying you gotta  _ eat _ them, or grab a bunch of giant ones and put them on your body, just... dress as them. But, sure. Okay. Let me try again. One of you could go as a key and the other as a lock, and the lock is, um, it's heart shaped. You know, like the key to your heart? Unlocking your heart?"

"That's kind of cute, actually."

"Hon, I'm a rogue, remember? I don't need a key to open your heart."

"It's a  _ metaphor _ , Carey!" Magnus throws his hands up in the air. "If you want, you can just go as thieves' tools!"

"Hey, there's a good one," Merle says, looking way too proud of himself for someone who’s just practically stealing someone else’s idea, "you can go as thieves' tools and a safe, or a chest, or a jail cell. It'd represent you. One of you, at least. Can't have it all."

"I'm into that. Killian?"

"Sure, yeah. At least I can carry a heavy costume and show off my muscles."

"Oooh,  _ love _ that,” Carey grins.

* * *

 

The issue of having good ideas for other people is that you run out of good ideas for yourself.

"We should also get matching costumes," Magnus says excitedly, grinning so wide that it looks as though his mouth were about to stretch off his face.

"Isn't that a couple thing? An actual, romantic, mushy couple thing? Besides," Merle looks at Taako in the most foreboding, mischievous way, and he has the sudden certainty that whatever's coming, he won't like it, "I think Taako here might want to match with his  _ boyfriend _ ."

"True, they could go as ‘Taako’ and ‘our disappointment’."

Taako groans. "You're never letting it go, huh?"

"I'm really happy for you, honest, but he did try to kill us."

"Mango, my man, you gotta be more open about things. I had to eat a fucking rock because of him, and trust me, that did not go down well, but here I am. I'm not saying you gotta make out with him, but try giving him a chance, y'know, it might --  _ Merle stop looking so fucking smug I know this is gay you don't have to rub it in _ ."

Merle simply smiles at Taako like a particularly self-satisfied cat. "I said nothing."

"You were saying it with your face."

"My face said nothing."

Taako knows perfectly well what to do when his companions are being impossible: he gives them the finger and walks out of the room.

 

* * *

 

The first thing Taako does after leaving the suite is look around for any spying eyes, grab his Stone of Farspeech, and tune it to Kravitz' channel.

"Hey, Krav, you up for some talking?"

There's a faint rustling of papers from the other side, and then Kravitz' voice comes from the stone. Despite how disgustingly sappy it is, it makes Taako grin; his boyfriend's voice always has that effect on him, making him feel all warm inside. 

"Sure," Kravitz says, and Taako can tell he's also smiling.

"Cool, cool. Listen, I'm gonna cut straight to the chase. There's going to be a Trolltide party here at the B.O.B., don’t question it, I know it’s fucking weird. Either way, you gotta come, since you're like, dead and all, which is exactly the vibe we're going for. Don't even need a costume."

"First off:  _ undead _ . There's a big difference. Secondly, I would love to, but there's been an increase in necromancy lately," Kravitz sighs. "It's all the fault of those damn Sharrans, I'm telling you. Live sacrifices this, acts of unnecessary evil that. They don't even get scared when I show up in my skeleton form, they just try to flirt with me."

"Ooh. Should I be jealous?"

He is, a little bit, but it's always been easier to just hide his insecurities behind nonchalance. Besides, as hard as it is for him to admit -for him to feel-, he trusts Kravitz. He knows he'd never betray him like that. Also, he doubts anyone other than him would be okay with macking on a literal fucking incarnation of Death. (The ones who'd find it hot would be put off by his dorkiness.)

"Not unless you fear I'm about to scamper off with a cold-blooded killer, no."

"Babe. Kinda am one of those, remember?"

"I'm not so sure about that. You're more of the 'dying' kind of person than the 'killing' kind of person."

"Can't I be both?"

"You would make a terrific lich, let me tell you that. By 'terrific' I mean 'would terrorize the Sword Coast in his search for shiny things'."

"Like I don't already."

Kravitz laughs. Taako's not sure whether it is a "that's totally right" laugh or a "that's totally wrong" laugh, but it's cute either way.

"Anyway. You coming or not? Because I feel we'd win best costume just on the basis of how fucking hot we are."

"I'll try my best, I promise."

"That's good enough."

Taako’s not exactly sure how, but he can  _ still  _ hear Kravitz’ fond smile in his silence. He’s about to say something about it, like “you’re gayer than I am”, because there’s no way he’s ever going to admit that it makes him ridiculously happy, but Kravitz speaks again before he can do it.

"Now, I'm sorry to cut this short, but I really have to get back to my paperwork. We'll talk later, yeah?"

"Sure. Have fun with your boring shit."

"Thanks. And Taako?"

"Hm?"

"I love you."

It's not the first time he says it, and hopefully it won't be the last, but Taako's heart still skips several beats, and then it pounds against his chest with renewed force. It kind of annoys him that he's grown so soft, but he also appreciates the fact that the walls he tried to build around himself are slowly crumbling. It means that he's healing. It means that he's moving on.

"Love you too, you nerd."

* * *

 

As it turns out, Lucretia’s idea of throwing a party is just “suggesting it might happen and letting other people handle the hard work.”

It isn’t that she’s lazy; it’s just that she is somewhat stumped by her employees’ idea of fun, as it, for the most part, does not include drinking wine, relaxing in a fantasy spa, and getting a pedicure. She’s, at her very core, a woman of refined tastes, and the members of the Bureau of Balance are anything but - they prefer to get drunk off their asses and wrestle with each other, be it physically, magically, or through spitting contests. (Except for Johan, who just wants to play  _ one fucking song _ without getting interrupted.)

Said members are all, in one way or another, preparing for the party, because even the sternest of them are excited about the prospect of doing something that does not involve a severe risk of death. There’s a tacit agreement to not make fun of each other for whatever they’re choosing to bring to the table, because, if they’re being honest, it’s all kind of awful. 

Still, the intention’s what matters.

Magnus teams up with Killian to craft duck-shaped candleholders. Which is a cute idea, in theory, but the execution is terrible. No matter how hard Magnus tries to fix it, the only options are to have a stick protruding off the duck’s back, or make it completely hollow, both of which are a sort of duck body horror that he’s not into. They end up going with the stick, if only because that way drunk people will be less likely to mistake the candleholder for a particularly intrincate cup.

 

Merle chooses to do what he knows best: half-hearted attempts at faith. He prays to Pan, asking him to send down some cool flowers or plants or whatever. His god probably finds the request a bit offensive, because “seriously, do you think I don’t have better things to do.”

(He doesn’t have any better things to do, so he provides Merle with a nice bouquet of assorted flowers.

Just the one. 

Merle can’t be bothered to try and make matching ones.)

Taako cooks. Of course he cooks. Now that he’s gotten over his entire guilt deal, he’s back in business, and he’s determined to have everyone try out his meals. Angus helps out as much as he can, by conjuring up small flames to lightly heat food, by chopping some things and measuring others, and by huddling in a corner out of Taako’s way and saying “you go, sir!”

Taako claims that he finds it annoying, but he actually thrives off the validation.

 

Johan writes a new song for the event. Avi brings the booze. Carey plans a coreography of acrobatics and her signature flips. Noelle can’t really do much, being a robot and all, but she secretly practices beatboxing to surprise everyone. 

 

They all realize that, whatever the others are doing, it generally does not fit the concept of Trolltide at all -there’s not nearly enough trickery, for one-, but they all agree to say nothing about it, as per their tacit agreement.

Besides, if they’re getting technical, Trolltide is for kids. Adults don’t normally partake in it, which makes the Director’s suggestion that they throw a party for it all the weirder. It’s a Waterdhavian holiday, and one not aimed at their general age group; the only one who could possibly know anything about it is Angus, but he’s, for once, decided not to interfere, because the adults are making a  _ really  _ big mess and he doesn’t have the first idea as to how go about fixing it. 

(Also, it’s kind of hilarious, watching them struggle with their own incompetence.)

* * *

 

The party starts when they want it to, because time is relative on the moon.

To Taako’s delight, Kravitz shows up. He’s wearing a suit that looks really, really good on him. He’s always wearing suits, and they always look good on him, but this one is particularly great. He’s also in his flesh form. Taako is very much into that, but it also seems to confuse the members of the B.O.B to no end.

The people who aren’t asking “who the fuck are you and how did you get here” are asking “what are you even dressed as.” Kravitz replies “Death” with a deadpan face. 

Nobody is convinced, and they keep on asking.  It gets annoying enough that, after a while of incessant prodding, he chooses to change his answers. He goes with “a butler”, “Dracula”, “you if you had any sense of fashion”, and “a person in a suit.” It doesn’t seem to help with the entire confusion thing, but it makes Taako laugh, and that’s all Kravitz cares about.

* * *

Gift-giving is not normally a tradition for Trolltide, but, since they’ve already screwed it up majorly, there’s no reason why they couldn’t screw it up a little bit more.

The gifts are generally normal, run of the mill things, acquired at Fantasy Costco. Sweet enough, but without any real thought as to the likes of the other party.

Then there’s Taako, who’s always trying to one-up everyone.

"I have something for you, Ango!"

The kid's lower lip quivers, and Taako can tell he's caught somewhere between excitement and fear, a feeling he dubs 'excitear', which doesn't sound quite as good as he'd hoped it would, but at least it's miles ahead of 'fexcitement'.

"That's very thoughtful of you, sir," Angus says carefully.

"I know!"

Taako digs into one of the many bags stashed inside his robes.  It turns out to be the wrong one -nobody can blame him, considering they're all the same electric blue color, because they were being sold as a bundle and fifty percent off-, and he pulls out a broken hairbrush. Then a bottle of nail polish. Then another, smaller bag. Then a fistful of coins. 

("Sweet, spare change!")

Finally, after about fifteen minutes of searching, during which Angus seems like he's about to faint from nervousness, Taako finds the right bag, and pulls out a pocket watch from it.

"Used to be mine. I think. Might've belonged to someone I killed. Either way, it's all yours, pumpkin."

The boy detective gapes at him, clearly amazed and moved by the gesture. "That's... surprisingly kind of you, mister Taako."

His eyes fill with tears as he gingerly grabs the pocket watch. The sheer reverence with which he does it makes Taako slightly uncomfortable, because he's really not into the whole unrestrained displays of emotion shebang, but it's also kind of cute. He'd be caught dead before he tells him that, though.

That's probably a shitty metaphor, considering he  _ has _ been caught dead multiple times.

Angus blows his nose. “I’ll carry this with me always, sir.”

“You better, ‘cause I spent about five hours trying to remember where I’d put the thing. Anyway, you got something for me?”

Taako doesn’t really care one way or another, but he has to keep up his front as a selfish, materialistic asshole. The best way to do that is by pretending he had something to gain from giving Angus a gift.

(The truth is that he just wanted to do something nice for him, given that he’d had it pretty rough. 

Also, he felt kind of guilty about having stolen his grandfather’s priceless cutlery.)

“I do, actually!” Angus smiles, wide and bright and eager. “I went to Neverwinter to buy this--”

“You shouldn’t have, my dude.”

“It’s alright, I really wanted to give you something meaningful--”

“No, I mean, you  _ shouldn’t have _ . Those fucking assholes will rip you off at the first chance they get, and this is coming from someone who deals with Garfield on a daily basis.”

“Oh.” The boy looks crestfallen. “Maybe that’s true, but there wasn’t anything at Fantasy Costco you would have liked. Well, there was this skirt with ruffles, but apparently it was cursed.”

“That’s cool, my man, no sweat. You’re the one losing money, not me. So, anyway. Gift?”

Angus sticks his hand in his pocket. It’s obviously better organized than Taako’s entire life, because after three seconds, he pulls out a golden chain.

At its end is a small replica of a middle finger, also golden, with a bright pink gem where the fingernail should be. The back of the hand has ‘FUCK U!’ written on it with tiny pearls, because whoever made this necklace went all out. 

It’s tacky as shit.

Taako immediately loves it.

“Kiddo,” he says, and ruffles Angus’ hair, “you did  _ so  _ well. I’m proud of you.”

Angus lights up, and his grin grows even wider.

Maybe it’s okay to drop his act every once in a while, Taako thinks, if it means he gets to see Ango smile like that.

 

* * *

 

Lucretia would never admit to it, but she  _ loves  _ the duck candleholders.

When nobody’s looking, she snags one and takes it to her room.


	2. if my lucky stars all aligned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok here’s where things start to get… a lot less canon-compliant, thanks to a lack of information that i could easily find regarding the holidays. (i have a couple of manuals and player’s handbooks, but nothing on holidays. i should probably rectify that.) 
> 
> anyway! this one takes place during one of the endless revels of life, celebrated by followers of sharess, who is the goddess of hedonism and servant of sune, the goddess of love. i figured that’s as close to valentine’s day as i could possibly get. i know it's only the 10th, but i won't be able to post it on the 14th, so i guess i might as well do it now?
> 
> this one has some mild (mildish) innuendo. nothing explicit, though

The Endless Revels of Life weren’t something Kravitz much cared about, thanks to his status as a dead skeleton bounty hunter, which had, for almost an eternity, prevented him from establishing any meaningful relationships.

Then Taako showed up.

Or… not exactly  _ showed up _ , because the first time he did he threatened to tentacle Kravitz’ dick, and in fact did. More like ‘Taako showed up, made a mess, vored a crystal, died about fifty times, went on a date with Kravitz, and things got romantic after that, for reasons beyond human or spectral comprehension, but that neither of them could complain about because it was actually really nice.’

So, thanks to Taako and his strange propensity for changing people’s lives without really meaning to, Kravitz had been thinking a lot about the Endless Revels of Life.

He’d asked the Raven Queen if he could celebrate another deity’s holiday without her getting angry, and she’d just waved a hand and said “go forth, do whatever.” The Raven Queen didn’t usually care about things that didn’t involve death or necromancy.

Part of Kravitz wished that she’d said no, because that might have made things a lot easier on him. As of now, he was stuck trying to come up with a good way to do something special for Taako. He’d (mostly) ruled out the idea of having him watch as he reaped souls, because he’d promised himself that he was done mixing business with pleasure. 

He briefly considered writing a song for him and playing it on the piano, but he’d realized, within seconds of trying to compose something, that he’d completely lost his touch when it came to music. That was probably for the best, because, come think of it, Taako would have found that unbearably sappy and laughed his ass off. 

There was also the possibility of taking him back to the Chug-N-Squeeze so that they could reminisce about their first date, but there was the issue of said date ending with Taako’s umbrella trying to kill Kravitz and Kravitz sort of accusing Taako of being a lich, so that was not the best thing to wax nostalgic about. Also, he felt that they’d get banned from the place if Taako tried to make something other than what the instructor told them to, and he  _ obviously  _ would. 

He could also stop by the Fantasy Costco, buy a bottle of some alcoholic drink or the other, and then they’d just stay in and cuddle, something that Taako would loudly call ‘fucking gay ass shit’, but that he would be totally be into, as proven by the way he’d snuggle up to Kravitz and cling to him whenever he tried to stand up and get another glass of whatever disgusting thing Garfield kept in stock. 

That was one of the problems with that plan  -- Garfield. Kravitz didn’t really have anything to give him. The Raven Queen didn’t pay with mortal currency. Garfield would’ve been delighted to take it, but that meant having an incredibly sleazy deals warlock owning magical, invaluable coins, and that would be about number five on the list of ‘stupid things Kravitz had done.’ The only other thing he could think of offering was his cloak, and there was  _ no way  _ he was going to give away his sick fucking cloak for something that was very likely to be just water with cologne mixed in it. 

The second problem was that they already did that on a regular basis, bar disgusting liquids. It wouldn’t be special if they just did what they did all the time, and Kravitz wants it to be  _ special _ ; but that was all he could think of, and it was all shit.

As much as it pains him, there is only one thing left to do: ask for help.

* * *

 

Carey and Killian always have something big planned for the Endless Revels of Life.

That had been the case ever since they started dating. Both of them enjoy surprising and spoiling the other, and as a result, they regularly come up with increasingly ridiculous things to give each other, so as to make the Revels even better than last season’s; after which they go to the most expensive restaurant they could find, eat the most expensive food on the menu, order the most expensive wine, and spend the night making fun of the pompous patrons. 

They have it all covered. There is no couple on the moon, below it, or above it that is as good at celebrating the Revels as they are. 

“Where should we go this time, hon?” Carey asks. She’s on the couch -big and beyond comfortable, a former Revels’ gift-, and reading a catalogue of ‘Faerun’s Least Deadly Places for a Romantic Night Out (Lack of Deadliness Not Guaranteed)’. 

Killian sits down next to her girlfriend and puts one arm around her. “Neverwinter, I think. It’s really nice this time of the year.”

“You just want to go to Neverwinter for that new crossbow store.”

“They have some that shoot exploding skulls, darling.”

“Okay, that’s pretty cool.” Carey taps the side of her face. “Do you think we could also find throwing daggers that explode on impact somewhere? Then we could match.”

“I swear I’ll go to every single store in Neverwinter looking for one, even the ones that don’t sell weapons.”

Carey grins. “You always say the sweetest things.”

They spend the next few minutes leafing through the catalogue, alternating between discussing the best date spots and flirting with each other, until there’s a sudden, hesitant knock on the door.

“Come in!” they say in unison, expecting Angus to walk through the door.

Instead, the person -person?- who greets them is Kravitz, the bounty hunter. He looks incredibly nervous. His eyes shift from side to side wildly, and he’s fidgeting with his hands. 

“Hi,” he says. “Um, I need your help.”

“O...kay?”

“Is something wrong?”

“Yes. No? I don’t know.”

“Dude, if  _ you  _ don’t know, there’s probably not much we can do,” Carey tells him. Killian nods.

Kravitz grimaces. “Maybe, but you’re the only people I could turn to. Listen, I’m just -- I’m just going to rip off the bandage and tell you what it is.” He takes a deep breath. “I… need to know what to do for the Endless Revels.”

“ _ Ooooooohhh _ .”

Killian does an eyebrow waggle. Carey has a shit-eating grin on her face. They high five as Kravitz buries his face in his hands and groans loudly.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” he mumbles.

“Come on, it’s just some good-natured teasing, ” Carey is still grinning, which doesn’t much help her case. 

“Yeah! You don’t get to have Death ask you for dating tips very often.”

Kravitz glances at the door, then at the girlfriends, then at the floor, then back at the door. It looks as if he was seriously planning a hasty retreat, or a quick descent into the Pit of Shame, but eventually he sighs.

“Don’t think of me as Death for the time being,” he says. “Just… think of me as some guy trying to do something nice for his boyfriend.  _ Please  _ stop grinning, I know what I just said and I’m regretting saying it.”

“Aw, don’t be dramatic. It was cute. Anyway, you came to the right place,” Killian draws Carey closer to herself, “we’re the Bureau’s resident romantic experts.”

“So you can help?”

“Damn right we can.” Carey looks at her girlfriend and winks. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, hon?”

“ _ Hell yeah. _ ”

They stare at Kravitz for an incredibly uncomfortable moment. (Uncomfortable for Kravitz, at least.) He tugs at his collar, clears his throat a couple of times, and even shuffles his feet, but the girlfriends just won’t stop looking at him.

“Are you going to tell me what you’re thinking, or...?” he says at last.

“It’s fun when you get like that,” Carey says. “Kind of like a personal victory for us.”

They high five again.

“Okay. Fine. Do you want a trophy? I can go get you a trophy, I can even make one myself  that says ‘Best at Killing an Undead Man From Exasperation’, just -- just tell me what it is.”

“You have no appreciation for suspense,” Killian dramatically brings one hand to her forehead, and Carey snickers. “But, sure. Might as well get to it. Here’s what we’re thinking:  _ double date _ .”

Kravitz squints. His mouth is slightly agape.

“That’s not -- aren’t dates supposed to be private?”

“Wasn’t your first date at the Chug-N-Squeeze?”

“... Yes?”

“That’s nowhere close to private, buddy. Everyone was staring at you.  _ We  _ were staring at you. We even saw you two shaping clay together like you were in Fantasy Ghost or something.”

“Double dates are great! They take the pressure off of you to try and do everything right, and you get to hang out with friends  _ and  _ with the person you love.”

Kravitz starts to seriously consider the possibility of a double date.

If he’d somehow gone back to the past and told that to himself from ten minutes ago, Ten-Minutes-Ago Kravitz would either check his own forehead for the fever he can’t physically have, or run from Carey and Killian as fast as possible because they’re amazing at either persuasion or bluff checks. Maybe both. The point is that they’re the best at making people believe some serious bullshit.

Current Kravitz, though, is thinking that this is… actually not a bad idea, all things considered. Carey and Killian are experienced. They’ll know where to take them, and what to do to make the evening enjoyable and just the right amount of romantic. It’s a good plan for now, until Kravitz gets a better grasp on what Taako likes to do for the Revels, if anything at all. 

“Alright,” he says carefully, “what do we need to do?”

Carey and Killian grin at each other, again, in a way that makes Kravitz wonder how their faces haven’t fallen off from it already.

* * *

 

When Taako enters his room, he finds Kravitz awkwardly and stiffly sitting on his bed. He looks like some kind of weird puppet; Taako wouldn’t be surprised if he suddenly got up and started tap dancing very badly.

“Hello Taako I have something to tell you a proposal if you will please hear me out.”

He speaks without pausing once, and with a high-pitched, trembling voice. It’s both adorable and hilarious.

“Let me guess. You have very tight pants, and you want me to get them off you. My man, you don’t need to try so hard, ‘cause--”

“It’s not that please don’t make any more innuendos this is already hard as it is.”

“Kinda hard not to make innuendos when you’re saying shit like ‘this is already hard as it is.’”

“Okay fine I’ll give you that one.”

“Can you speak, y’know, a little slower? You’re immortal and I’m an elf, we got some serious time on our hands, my dude.”

Kravitz breathes deeply, which he obviously does not need, but often does just for the sake of comfort. It’s probably a habit he picked up from being around mortals again. 

“Sure. Right,” he rubs the back of his neck. “Um. Taako, would you like to go on a double date?”

“I  _ really  _ hope it’s not with Merle and a bunch of plants.”

“No! No, it’s with Carey and Killian. They, uh, they want to celebrate the Endless Revels, and I figured we might as well tag along.”

“Do we get to mooch food off of them? Is there any fancy cutlery I can steal? And should I wear that sweet layered skirt I have so I can hide the cutlery in it?”

“Maybe; I’m pretty sure there will be; and I think you’d look lovely in it, so yes, just make sure nobody hears the clinking noises when you walk.”

Taako winks. “Got it all covered, bone hunk. Just gotta cast Silence and bam.”

“A man of many talents.”

“You bet your ass I am.”

Kravitz smiles, but he’s wringing his hands nervously. “So, uh, is that a yes, then?”

“It’s a totally.”

* * *

 

The restaurant Killian and Carey pick is fancy in the most kitschy way possible. The facade of the building is the sort of pale cream color that only old rich people use, but it’s tinted yellow by the lights -- and there is a  _ massive  _ surplus of lights. Some are on the wall, some above the door. Some are blue, some are giant yellow snowflakes; both of those hang from a string over the (also lit up) name of the restaurant.

To make things even worse, there are two huge columns flanking the door, completely at odds with the rest of the place style-wise. It all looks as if someone had decided to grab all the worst things one could possibly do to a building, threw them together in a cauldron, and mixed it with a shit ladle. 

Taako whistles.

“Oh boy,” he says. “ _ Ooooh _ boy this place is so fucking corny.”

“We can always go somewhere else, there’s--”

“You kidding? This is the perfect spot for a good old cutlery heist. That shit’s gonna be both horrible and expensive as all get out.”

They walk towards the door. Carey and Killian are holding hands, and leaning the slightest bit against each other; Taako has one arm linked with Kravitz’. They look as if they were strutting down a fantasy red carpet. 

A grim-looking elven man with a mouth that sags downwards at the corners holds the door open for them. “Good evening.”

As they’re about to go in, Taako notices that he’s wearing an incredibly garish bright red bowtie with white polka dots.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be related to a Jenkins, would you?”

The man looks as suspicious as he can be without changing his facial expression. “I have a second cousin named Jenkins. How did you know?”

“Oh, my dude, I have the  _ funniest  _ story to tell you--”

“He had a gut feeling,” Carey says hurriedly.

“He’s a diviner.” Kravitz adds. 

“It was nice to meet you, bye.” Killian says.

Before the elf can say anything else, the three of them usher Taako inside the restaurant. Taako seems a bit dejected over not being able to use his amazing storytelling abilities, but as soon as he sees the place’s tableware, his eyes light up.

“I’m going to get  _ so much cash  _ for these,” he says, rubbing his thumb against his index and middle finger. “This is the best date ever. No offense, Krav, but seriously, I’m going to be filthy rich.”

“I really liked our fishing date,” Kravitz whispers sadly.

* * *

 

Kravitz had his doubts about double dating, but so far things are going well. For one, Carey and Killian help cover Taako whenever he grabs a fork, or a knife, or a napkin (“they have gold thread!”). They also have their orders ready in the blink of an eye, which Taako doesn’t. 

“I want Tethyrian tanagluth,” he says. “Never tried it, but it sounds hardcore.”

“It’s kind of gross, actually,” Carey says, “unless you’re into wine with things floating in it.”

“Ew. Not my thing.” He glances at the menu again. “Okay, what about Evermead? It’s like a hundred gold pieces, it’s gotta be good.”

“Taako, we’re so glad you’re here. You’re a really good friend.  _ We are not paying for your food _ ,” Killian says flatly.

Taako pouts, and rests his chin on his hands. “That’s fine. Krav’s paying. Aren’t you, skelebabe?”

“Um,” Kravitz leans in close to Taako and whispers, “I was kind of counting on Carey and Killian paying. I, uh, I only have a handful of gold pieces that I got from Angus.”

“You stole money from  _ Ango _ ?”

“First off, don’t get all moral on me, you stole his heirloom. Secondly, it wasn’t stealing. He paid me to tell him bedtime stories about my bounties.”

“So basically, neither of us have any cash.”

“Ba - you don’t have cash?”

Killian clears her throat. “What are you two plotting over there?”

“Nothing, nothing! We’re just saying how much we love each other. Isn’t that right, sweetums?”

“That’s right, honeycakes.”

Neither of them is sure how they manage to say that without either cracking up or grimacing, but Killian and Carey simply smile and go back to telling sweet nothings to each other.

“Okay,” Kravitz whispers, “you’re telling me you don’t have cash.”

“I got nothing, my man. Left my wallet at home.”

“On purpose?”

“Totally. Who do you think I am?”

Kravitz rubs his temples. “Fine. Let’s evaluate the situation. We’re in an expensive restaurant and we don’t have any way of paying. We could just not eat anything?”

“And just stare at team Sweet Flips like two kids looking through the window of a candy store? No way, bubbeleh. I’m getting the tightest shit this place has to offer.” He smirks at Kravitz in that mischievous way of his; the way that always signals trouble. “I got some ideas. I can just pretend to go to the bathroom, get out of the restaurant, and pawn off the cutlery. Shit, better yet -- you go to the bathroom and open one of those rifts of yours.”

“Do you know where to find a pawn shop? Because I sure as hell do not know where to find a pawn shop.”

Taako waves a hand. “We can sell ‘em to people on the street.”

“Let me get this straight. You want to just approach random people, lift your skirt so that cutlery falls out, and say ‘hey, bud, wanna buy some forks’ like some sort of shady tableware dealer? Because trust me, all that’s going to do is make you end up in jail.”

“You don’t have to put it  _ that  _ way.”

“It’s the only way to put it.”

Taako goes silent for a moment, and chews at his bottom lip. In front of them, Carey is nuzzling against Killian’s shoulder. If he’s being honest, Kravitz feels kind of jealous; he wasn’t expecting to be drawn into the greatest quest for money of the year when he agreed to a double date. He’s not quite sure what he  _ was  _ expecting, but it’s definitely not that.

“Okay, I know what to do,” Taako claps his hands, “I’m going to cast Disguise Self, and I’ll trick the staff into thinking I’m the owner of the place, and then I’ll tell them ‘hey, fuckers, the gorgeous people at table five get their dinner for free because they’re gorgeous and also I love them.’”

“Do you know what the owner of the place looks like?”

“No, but there’s gotta be a portrait of them somewhere.”

“Why would they have that?”

“‘Cause they’re rich, duh. That’s what rich people do. Keep up, Krav, I can’t do this all on my own.”

“Taako, even if there indeed was a portrait of the owner, you wouldn’t know what their voice sounds like.”

“No biggie. I can just say they have a cold or something. Maybe inhaled helium?”

“Darling. My love. This is easily the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Taako scowls. “Well,  _ you _ come up with something then!”

Kravitz actually tries. He tries very, very hard. He closes his eyes and rubs the bridge of his nose so as to concentrate better - luckily, Carey and Killian are too wrapped up in each other to notice that he looks either very suspicious or like he’s about to sneeze.  


“You know,” he says at last, “you weren’t too far off about the rifts.”

* * *

 

Taako and Kravitz hatch a plan that’s in equal parts outrageous and brilliant.

They don’t tell Carey or Killian about it, though, because the less people know about it, the better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one was getting INCREDIBLY long, so i split it in two parts. which goes against what i said in the fic summary, so, um. oops? (this is going to be the only time that this happens, though, pinky swear.) the next one is coming like, super soon because i already have it written and stuff, just giving it some time so as to not spam y’all.


	3. under the crescent moonlight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one isn't standalone!! if you want to understand what's going on, read the previous chapter. ik i said in the fic description that these wouldn't be related, but i split this chapter in two so that it was shorter. and this part ended up being ridiculously long anyway, so, um... oops? :')
> 
> anyway, enjoy the thrilling conclusion, by which i mean utter mess

The rest of the evening goes smoothly.

Part of it, at least.

A sliver of it.

Taako gets the most extravagant food on the menu, picking things by how cool their name sounds. He picks star lobster (“it’s a star, just like me!”), sjorl (“I can’t even pronounce that shit, it’s gotta be good”), and Death Cheese (“holy shit give me a thousand, shove this down my throat, how fucking cool is this”.)

As it turns out, his order ends up being two different cheeses and a dreadfully small serving of lobster, about the size of his palm.

“What the fuck is this,” he says, staring at the dish. “What in the everloving, god-shitting, plane-screwing, ass-munching  _ fuck  _ is this.” 

“Star lobster, sir, as you requested,” the waitress says. Outwardly, she’s the very model of composure, but one can see a small drop of sweat starting to trail its way down her temple.

“This is not star lobster. This is… this is rock lobster. Pebble lobster. I can eat this in one bite, in fact, look at me because that’s what I’m about to do, baby!” 

Kravitz, Killian and Carey groan in unison.

Taako ignores them, grabs the plate, holds it to his face, and tilts it up so that the food falls into his mouth. Then he swallows hard, coughing a couple of times as he does, and glares at the waitress, who is still sweating.

“I hope the meal was to your liking, sir,” she says.

“It wasn’t. It was shit. Hey, do you know me?” 

“Um.” She glances from side to side, as though expecting a fantasy camera to suddenly pop up and reveal she’s in some kind of terrible reality TV show. “A valued customer?” 

“It’s Taako. From ‘Sizzle it Up with Taako’? The hit show?” 

“I’m afraid I haven’t had the pleasure of watching it.” 

“Well, get ready to sit through a fucking marathon, ‘cause I’m about to pull up fantasy Youtube and show your poor excuse for a cook every single episode. No, y’know what, I have a better idea. I’m going to go right into that kitchen of yours and start working my magic, bubbeleh. Hands-on lesson.” 

“That’s very thoughtful of you, sir, but --” 

“That’s me. I’m a giver.” 

A muffled series of  _ thud _ s comes from somewhere behind Taako. He turns around slightly, only to find Killian is repeatedly banging her head against the table while Carey pats her back.

It’s at that point that Kravitz realizes it’s up to him to save them from getting banned for eternity.

“Taako, love, look,” he says, holding up the Death Cheese so that his boyfriend can see it better, “it’s got a little skull carved in it.” 

All outrage seemingly forgotten, Taako’s eyes grow wide. “Hooooly shit. This is -- this is the best thing ever. I love this restaurant so much.”

The waitress takes advantage of his distraction to hastily retreat into the kitchen.

* * *

 

Killian and Carey quickly find out that its incredibly hard to make small talk with someone who tried to kill you once.

They want to ask the typical double date questions, but the issue is that they’d all lead to an awkward silence. “How did you two meet” is out of the table -- they already know the answer, and the answer involves Kravitz trying to kill them all and failing miserably. “How’s work” -- that’s something they do not want to know about, because it’d probably just be a string of grim details about death, necromancy, damned souls, and some more death thrown in for good measure. Daily, normal mortal things in general are out of the question.

It leaves them with precious little to talk about.

“So, um, Kravitz,” Carey says, idly playing with one of the few forks Taako hasn’t stolen, “nice uh. Nice hair.”

“Thanks,” Kravitz says, looking every bit as desperate as Carey and Killian are. “I, uh. I like your scales. Very shiny.” 

“I polish them daily.” 

Almost out of reflex, Killian winks at Carey. “That’s true. She polishes  _ everywhere _ .”

That makes Taako’s eyes gleam. “Okay, I really gotta ask. How does that even  _ work _ ?” 

Killian shrugs. “You’re dating Death, who’s also a skeleton. You tell me.” 

“Oh, he’s not a skeleton when it matters. I mean, I’m totally into that, but it might make things a bit complicated, you dig? Like, how does that…” he makes some lewd gestures with his fingers. “What goes where?”

“Don’t ask me, I’m not a boney.” 

“Okay, you got me, never heard of that one.” 

“It’s like a furry for skeletons. You know, like nya?” Killian waves a hand. “Except in this case it’d be clack, I guess.” 

Taako huffs. “Well, you know what, if I’m a boney you’re a -- you’re a scaley. Suck on that.” 

Killian is about to reply, but then she purses her lips and seems to seriously consider it for a moment.

“I mean, that’s not too far off?” she says.

* * *

 

When dessert arrives, Taako and Kravitz look at each other and nod.

“We really need to go to the bathroom like, right now this moment.” 

“Right. So if you’ll excuse us--” 

Killian squints at them suspiciously. “If you run out on us…” She leaves the threat hanging in the air, because she’s already intimidating enough without actually putting effort into it.

“Nah, my dude. We just wanna make out.” 

“Yes. I, um, want to give Taako some sugar.” 

To Taako’s credit, he doesn’t laugh. (Still, his lips twitch a bit and there are tears in his eyes.)

* * *

 

“Okay, let’s get this going,” Taako says, and cracks his knuckles.

They’re cooped up in an incredibly small stall. Taako is squatting on top of the toilet, and Kravitz is pressed up against the door, grimacing.

“You ready, Krav?”

“Yes, _ just get me out of here _ .”

“Then it’s Taako time, baby. Watch and learn. Or better yet, watch and be amazed, ‘cause you’re not a wizard so you can’t pull of any of this tight ass shit.” 

Arms outstretched and palms up, he closes his eyes, and begins mumbling an incantation under his breath, until he’s wreathed in a soft golden light.

It makes him look really good, and for a moment, Kravitz actually, seriously considers the prospect of making out with Taako in a grody toilet stall. Then he remembers that they are in a  _ fucking grody toilet stall _ , attempting to carry out what is in equal measure the greatest and worst plan of the century; so he simply stands there, uncomfortably shifting from foot to foot, as Taako, quite literally, works his magic.

Luckily, it doesn’t take very long. Within minutes, the golden light disappears, and Taako slowly opens his eyes. 

“I got it,” he says, smugly. “Who’s the man?”

“Great work, Taako.”

“No, shit, you’re supposed to say ‘you’re the man!’. Let’s try again. Who’s the man?”

“You’re the man!”

“That’s right!” Taako high fives Kravitz, as much as one can high five another person while squatting on a toilet. “Okay, your turn now, babe. Gimme some of that Reaper sugar.”

“... You’re not letting that go, are you.”

“No fucking way, my man.”

Kravitz sighs -more out of habit than anything else-, and brings his scythe into existence; then he attempts to draw it back, so as to make a rift near the door, but the snath hits Taako’s shoulder.

“Ow! Dude, watch it!”

“I’m trying, but -- it’s too big.  _ Don’t snicker at me _ .”

Taako snickers anyway.

“Okay, maybe if I bring it up a little bit, like this… ah, shit, right, but then the blade can’t move very well. I could always open the world’s smallest rift?”

“We’re not get into fantasy Guinness’ records, babe.”

“Fine. I get what you’re saying. What if you just… can you do a handstand on the wall?”

“I could. I could also, y’know, levitate?”

Kravitz goes silent for a second.

“Yeah, that’s probably -- that’s probably a better idea.”

Taako quickly casts the spell, and levitates towards the ceiling with his legs crossed. He notices immediately that he should’ve been more careful, because forks and spoons begin to fall out of his skirt and clatter against the floor, or against Kravitz’ head.

“Oh, boy, that’s one hell of a ruckus, huh? Gotta do this quick before anyone comes in.” 

Kravitz creates a rift, easily and cleanly, and he’s about to step through when he hears Taako clear his throat.

“Do you want to go first, love?”

“No, dude, just -- you’re forgetting to grab the cutlery.” 

Kravitz rolls his eyes, but he bends down to pick them up. 

Taako whistles at him.

“Nice view!”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, but I could, you know, I could really use some help from the magical man hovering above my head.”

“Ugh.  _ Fine _ .”

Taako floats down, head first, and reaches his hands towards the tableware. His skirt bunches up all the way to his face, making him look like some sort of reverse mushroom.

“Should’ve put this in my bag of holding from the get go,” he grumbles. 

“That’s what you get for being so flashy.”

“You can take the Taako out of the showmanship, but you can’t take the showmanship out of the Taako, my man.”

* * *

 

They step out of the rift, and into a house that is probably the ugliest, most garish place they’ve ever been to. Which is saying a lot, because Kravitz visits power-hungry people for an unliving and Taako loves everything tacky.

The room they’re in is entirely golden, every single bit of it, down to the marble floors, which should have offered some relief from the yellow hellscape but just make it even shinier. About a hundred columns are spread throughout the place. That makes Taako think that the owner of the restaurant must have some kind of column fetish; and also a light fetish, because there are more chandeliers than there are walls. Two of them are on the ceiling, and they’re large enough that they almost reach the floor. The other eight are placed on the walls, two on each. 

There’s a gigantic fountain in a corner of the room, with an uncomfortably realistic lion’s head as decoration. It’s golden, because of course.

For some unholy reason, there are also about five mirrors dotting the room. Their reflection fills the room with  _ even more golden _ , turning everything into some kind of mesmerizing, yet nightmarish plane of torture.

And the seats have golden flowers on them, which is beyond unforgivable.

“Are you, uh,” Kravitz opens and closes his mouth several times like a disoriented fish, “are you sure this is a good idea? Because I’m getting the feeling that this is a trap. Maybe we should just turn back.”

“No way. We’re here to win.”

Taako grabs Kravitz’ hand and tugs him towards the hallway.

It’s easier on the eyes; it has wooden floors, walls colored a sickly beige, paintings with intrincate golden frames (there had to be golden somewhere), and ostentatious arches occupying every place of the wall that’s not covered with paintings.

They realize, as soon as they walk forwards, that they’re not paintings -- they’re all portraits of the same person, with plaques such as “Lord Writingham at rest”, “Lord Writingham in front of the hearth,” “Thoughtful Lord Writingham” and “Lord Writingham at the inauguration of his restaurant.”

Taako whoops. “I  _ told  _ you he’d have portraits of himself! You own me ten gold pieces!”

“We didn’t make a bet.”

“Well, we did now.” He holds out his hand and wiggles his fingers. “Gimme that cash.”

“Taako, I have no cash. That’s exactly why we’re here in the first place.”

"Cheapskate.”

* * *

 

Taako and Kravitz keep walking through increasingly more mazelike hallways and increasingly more disgusting rooms. They go upstairs, they downstairs, then upstairs again, then sideways in a really precarious looking stairwell.

“Are you sure you know where we’re going? I’m starting to feel a bit dizzy,” Kravitz says.

“Positive, my man. Got it all under control here. We just need to find the bookcase with the secret door behind it and we’re all set. It should be in the next room.”

It is.

The issue is that the room is completely covered with identical bookcases.

“Oh. Oh wow. Um,” Taako licks his lips. “How ‘bout you just open a rift into the vault?”

“I told you, I can only open rifts into places when I know what they look like, and you stopped using your spell as soon as you saw the vault door.”

“Yeah, probably not my brightest moment, but it’s kinda hard to go through doors when you’re divining and shit.” He shrugs. “No biggie. You can just take us to the door, right? Should’ve done it from the get go.”

“We really should have, because my eyes are now irreparably damaged thanks to this terrible  _ fucking  _ place.”

“It’s a valuable lesson, my dude.”

Instead of replying, Kravitz withdraws his scythe. He tears a rift in spacetime, and steps in.

Taako is about to do the same, when he hears a popping sound and sees Kravitz appear from thin air in front of him.

‘Well, shit.”

“This does not look like a vault door.” Kravitz runs a hand through his hair. “I think I might’ve gotten it wrong. Can you describe the door again?”

“It’s big, it’s metal, and it has a wheel on it. Not much of a mystery.”

“That’s what every vault door looks like, Taako. I need something a bit more specific.”

“Okay, but,” Taako says, grinning smugly, “if that were the case, you would’ve just appeared in some other place. But you didn’t. Which means there’s clearly something stopping you from getting there anyway.”

“I… hadn’t thought of that.” 

“You’re lucky you have me.”

Taako is expecting Kravitz to sigh, or roll his eyes, but he just smiles tenderly. “I really am.”

He just shakes his head, and turns around to hide the way he’s blushing.

* * *

 

“They’re taking a lot of time, aren’t they?” Killian says.

She’s resting her chin on her hands. Carey is impatiently tapping a claw against the table.

“Yeah, like,” Carey says, “I really hope they’re not doing it in a bathroom, because that would be so gross.”

“You never know with boneys.” Killian cocks her head to a side. “I’m more worried about them running out on us. Kravitz can create rifts, right?”

“Oh, shit, I’d forgotten about that.”

They both sigh at the same time.

“You know what?, I’m gonna give them thirty more minutes. Forty, even, because I’m that nice. If they don’t come back by then, I’m going to play my cards.”

“What cards?”

Carey grins, reaches into her pocket, and pulls out a wallet, which she waves back and forth in the air.

“This is Taako’s. I knew he’d leave it at the base, so I went into his room and grabbed it.”

Killian starts laughing. “Carey Fangbattle, I love you  _ so much _ .”

“Love you too, babe.”

* * *

 

“Number sixty-two isn’t the one either.”

Kravitz looks like he’s about to cry.

Taako keeps pulling books out of the bookcase, and throwing them behind his back as he does. There’s a gigantic pile of books growing in the middle of the room.

“Nope, not number sixty-three. Wow this guy has a lot of books.”

“I think they’re all blank.”

Taako opens one, and flicks to a random page. It’s covered in symbols and a string of letters, forming an incomprehensible mess. “Nah, I think it’s in orcish. That, or the person who wrote them was falling asleep.”

Kravitz looks over his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Looks like gibberish to me.”

“Honestly, I’m just glad the letters aren’t golden. Small blessings, y’know?”

“I wouldn’t call this a blessing,” Kravitz mumbles.

Luckily, it doesn’t take much longer to find the right bookcase. Taako grabs a book, and the bookcase vanishes. In its place is a big opening, leading into a dark corridor illuminated only by the faint glow of torches.

“Oh man, I sure hope we’re not heading into some kind of death dungeon.”

“That would actually be the best possible scenario.”

Taako winks at him. “Right. Forgot you had that covered. Soooo,” he gestures at the corridor, “you’re totally going first. Just saying.”

* * *

 

The passage is winding, and seems as if it were coiling around the rest of the building. It’s almost easy to believe one could get lost in it, despite it being just one long, uninterrupted path.

“Not into this,” Taako says under his breath, “really fucking not into this.”

“It’s okay. We’re almost there.”

“Okay, first off, you have no way of knowing and secondly, you’ve been saying that for the past hour.”

“It’s only been five minutes, love.”

“For your immortal ass! For me it’s been like, three days! I feel like I’ve spent my entire life in here!”

“I really think we’re almost there. Seriously. I’m pretty sure I can see a light.”

Taako runs forward for the sole purpose of sagging against Kravitz’ shoulder. “Oh, thank fuck.”

Within moments, they arrive at a cold, impersonal room, all made of silver. (“What’s with this guy and metals?” Taako asks.) The most prominent, and only, feature is the huge vault door.

“We’re here. We fucking made it.” Taako closes his eyes, throws his head back, and stretches his arms out.

“Good job, us,” Kravitz says, sounding completely unenthusiastic, “but now we have to figure out how to open this thing.”

“We gotta be more straightforward this time around. Less planning, more acting. Follow Magnus’ example.”

“That won’t go over well.”

“Do I hear you hating? ‘Cause from where I’m standing it sounds like you’re hating.”

Kravitz crosses his arms. “Excuse you, I am  _ not  _ a hater.”

“Then act like it, dude. Let me work my magic again. Except this time it’s not actual magic, but everything I do is magic anyway, so there.” 

“Fine. What do you need me to do?”

“Just stand to a side and look pretty, I got it covered.”

Kravitz moves to a corner of the room, shoots Taako a smouldering look, and strikes a pose, with one leg up in the air and bent so that his foot touches his other leg, like some sort of sexy flamingo.

It goes terribly, because his leg begins wobbling and he falls to the ground in an undignified heap.

“You had one job, Krav,” Taako sighs.

“Just -- just do your thing.”

Taako does that; which means that Taako spins the wheel.

The door opens.

“Woah. I... wasn’t expecting  that to work?”

“You’re telling me that this man made it so that you can’t access the place with magic of any kind, but the door opens just like that. It can’t be right. It has to be a trap.”

Taako pokes his head into the vault, and gives the walls a small, tentative pat. “Doesn’t seem like it.”

They look at each other, and nod in unison.

Arm in arm, so as to make things a bit more dramatic, they walk into the vault.

It has a crimson carpet, a giant chandelier, and what seems to be like obsidian filing cabinets all over the place.

“How does this guy find a way to make everything fucking awful?”

“Why don’t we forget about that, and focus on actually finding the money. Between the two of us, we should be done in about five minutes.”

“Cool. Let’s do that shit.”

* * *

 

It takes them less than five minutes to find the gold coins, because, as it turns out, every single cabinet has gold coins in it.

“I want to throw these to the floor and roll around in them,” Taako says, voice filled with awe.

“We can do that later.”

“Yeah, I guess. ‘Kay. Grab as many as you can and stick them right in my bag of holding.”

Kravitz is about to touch the coins, but he hesitates, and frowns just the slightest bit. 

“What if they’re trapped?” he asks.

“Fuck, dude, everything is trapped according to you.” He does a mockery of Kravitz’ voice. “What if the room is trapped? What if the door is trapped? What if the coins are trapped? What if my dick is trapped?”

“That wasn’t necessary and you know it.”

“Just take that shit. We’ll find a way to deal with it later.”

The coins are not trapped.

They grab as many as they possibly can, using both hands to do so, and hastily and awkwardly throw them into Taako’s bag of holding. They end up with a small fortune, far more than they would need to pay for the dinner. 

Once they’re done, they simply stare at each other, and begin to grin.

“We did it!”

“We fucking did it! Holy shit!”

“That was the greatest heist of the  _ century _ !”

They grab each other’s hands and begin bouncing around.

“We’re the best!”

“Fuck yeah we are!”

“I love you!”

“I love you too! This is the best fucking date ever!”

“I really liked our fishing date, but I have to agree!”

“Who the fuck is in my vault,” a growling voice says from somewhere outside the room.

Taako’s eyes grow wide. “That… wasn’t you, was it?”

“No. It wasn’t you either, I take it?”

“What do you  _ think _ !? Oooh, fuck, he can’t see me, I’m a TV personality, this can’t happen to me!”

Kravitz thinks. He thinks very quick, and very hard, and comes up with the best idea he can while under pressure.

“Hide somewhere,” he tells Taako. “Anywhere. Blink if you can. I’ll be right back.”

Taako doesn’t need to be told twice; he looks around for any places to hide, finds none, and hastily Blinks out of the plane.

Kravitz lets his human face fall, revealing the skeleton underneath, and seizes his scythe. 

Then he walks out of the vault.

“You’re in big trouble -- holy shit what are you,” the lord says.

“I am Death come for thee,” Kravitz says, putting an absurd amount of effort in making sure that his eyes glow even redder. “Or failing that, I am Death come for thy money.”

Lord Writingham begins to shake like a leaf. “P-please don’t kill me, you can take everything, just don’t kill me.”

“You’re in luck, because I’ve decided to spare you in exchange for your coins. Real estate is so expensive in the Astral Plane, you see, and I want a house with a pool.”

The lord reaches into his pockets and throws more coins at Kravitz. “Here you are! It’s all yours! You can even have my restaurant!”

“Your restaurant is bad and I don’t want it. Now, leave me be. I must return to my plane.”

Lord Writingham nods vigorously and turns around, quickly running towards the corridor.

“Enjoy your pool!” he yells at Kravitz while retreating.

“Thanks!” Kravitz yells back.

* * *

 

“Well, it’s been thirty-five minutes,” Killian says.

Carey is intensely smelling Taako’s wallet. “I think it’s real leather. D’you think it’s real leather? Maybe I should bite it.”

“Honey, I told you, you shouldn’t have had that much wine.” 

She sniffs. “Well, what was I supposed to do, huh? They left us waiting for like, an hour!”

“That’s true, but --”

Carey leans towards Killian and starts smelling her.

“Oh babe you smell  _ so good _ . Is that the new perfume you got?”

Killian puffs up like an aromatic peacock. “Yep. Eau de Gutbuster.”

“So good,” Carey sighs, and plants a kiss on Killian’s cheek.

* * *

 

Taako and Kravitz step through the rift and into the -still grody- toilet stall.

“That was the tightest shit,” Taako says, giggling, “the dude’s face when you told him you were Death -- holy shit he almost pissed his pants. That was so good.”

“It was! And you just knew exactly where to go, it was so cool.”

“I know!”

They smile at each other, then begin kissing, completely disregarding the terrible setting, because they’re high on adrenaline, and also because they haven’t kissed in about an hour and that must be remedied.

“Guess we really are having bathroom makeouts now, huh?” Taako says when they briefly part to breathe.

Kravitz laughs.

* * *

 

When they finally reach the table, they find Carey sleeping on the table, a small puddle of drool forming around her mouth, and Killian leaning back on her chair.

She smiles beatifically at them as they approach.

“Took your sweet time, huh?” she says.

“Sorry. You know how it is when your partner is really fucking hot.”

Kravitz grabs Taako’s waist and holds him close to his body. “Just can’t have enough.”

“That’s alright. No big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

Taako winks, grabs his bag of holding, and empties all its contents into the table. A pile of gold coins forms on top of the dirty plates.

“Dinner’s on us, my dudes,” he says.

“I know,” Killian grins, and holds up Taako’s -now empty- wallet.

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i have not written humorous stuff in over a year and i have a shaky grasp on every single character voice except for like, angus possibly, so any criticism you might have is super welcome!! (unless it’s like… “are you ok w constructive criticism” “yeah” “it sucks” meme)


End file.
